The moon shone silver over the Shoukang Palace, its golden rooftops glimmering softly in the night. Red lanterns swayed in the gentle autumn breeze, their light throwing restless shadows across the polished stone courtyards. The fragrance of incense drifted faintly on the air, mingling with the cool scent of night-blooming jasmine. In the distance, lotus ponds shimmered like glass, each flower glowing as though the heavens had scattered jewels across the water's surface.
Tonight, the palace lay in uneasy silence. No songs rose from the courtyards, no strings nor flutes stirred the air. Even the cicadas seemed to have hushed, as if nature itself waited to hear the outcome of a single boy's shallow breaths. The empire might sleep, but its heart the young Crown Prince trembled between two worlds: one of breath, one of shadow.
Inside the innermost chamber, the Empress knelt at her son's side.
The Crown Prince, heir to the empire, lay upon a carved sandalwood bed draped with curtains of pale silk embroidered with dragons soaring among clouds. Yet the boy's small body was frail beneath the weight of such majesty. His cheeks, once rosy with youth, were now drained to a sickly pallor, the white of fine porcelain tinged faintly with blue. His lips, dry and pale, quivered each time he drew a shallow breath. Sweat beaded upon his smooth brow, dampening the loose strands of dark hair that clung to his temples. His eyes, half-lidded and clouded, seemed to struggle between sleep and fever's delirium. Each cough, weak yet sharp, echoed like a dagger in his mother's heart.
The Empress leaned forward, her trembling hand brushing the child's arm through the silk sheets. Her touch was gentle, yet her grip carried the desperation of a woman who dared not let go.
She herself was a vision of grace and sorrow. Her robes of crimson silk flowed around her like a river of fire, heavy with golden threadwork depicting dragons and phoenixes entwined in eternal flight. Wide sleeves trailed upon the floor, their hems edged with pearls that gleamed faintly in the candlelight. Upon her neck rested a collar of gold filigree, set with jade and lapis lazuli that reflected the wavering light of the oil lamps. Her wrists bore bangles of white jade, so translucent they seemed to glow from within, and each time her hand moved they rang with a soft, mournful chime.
Yet what drew the eye most was her earrings twin droplets of carved sapphire suspended from delicate chains of gold. Each gem caught the flickering light, turning it to ocean fire that shimmered against her pale skin. When she leaned forward, the sapphires swayed gently, like tears of the heavens themselves. Beneath the glow, their blue seemed endless deep, regal, and filled with the quiet weight of sorrow. The Empress's attendants often said that no jewel could match her dignity, yet tonight even her ornaments seemed to mourn with her.
Her hair was coiled into a high, intricate crown, secured with pins of gold and jade shaped into lotus blossoms. A single phoenix hairpin, its feathers carved with minute precision, caught the glow of the candle flame, as if it held a fragment of fire within. The phoenix wings curved protectively over a small ruby set at its heart a symbol of immortality, now trembling faintly in the air's stillness.
But for all her splendor, the Empress's face was pale, almost ethereal. The faintest tremor crossed her lips, betraying the storm beneath her calm exterior. Strands of black hair had slipped loose in her distress, falling across her face and softening her regal beauty with raw humanity. For a moment, she no longer looked like the Empress of the Celestial Empire, but simply a mother desperate, helpless, clinging to the small, burning spark of her only child's breath.
Around her, the room moved in hushed ritual. Attendants in plain silk robes of muted blue and gray padded softly across the lacquered floor, adjusting the curtains, carrying fresh candles, and feeding the bronze incense burners shaped like crouching beasts. Their faces were lowered, eyes fixed on the floor, yet the tremor in their hands betrayed the dread that coiled within the chamber. Even the guards standing at the edge of the room, clad in dark armor polished to a cold gleam, held their spears more tightly, as if the boy's life itself were slipping between their fingers.
At the foot of the bed, a physician knelt after checking the boy's pulse. He was an elder, his beard long and streaked with silver, his robes smelling faintly of herbs. His expression, though respectful, was heavy with the weight of helplessness. He bowed deeply before retreating, his silence more damning than any words.
The Empress's breath quivered, but her face remained composed a mask carefully carved by years of court life, now cracking beneath the weight of maternal fear. She had faced emperors, councils, concubines, and endless whispers behind jeweled screens, yet nothing had ever frightened her like this silence beside her son's labored breathing.
She whispered, her voice barely audible, "He is so cold… yet he burns within."
The words broke the stillness, trembling through the chamber like the flutter of a bird's wings.
Her chief attendant, Maid Ming, knelt close, her forehead nearly brushing the floor. "Your Majesty… the Imperial Physician can do no more. Perhaps" she hesitated, eyes darting to the darkened corners of the room, "perhaps Heaven must decide what man cannot."
The Empress's fingers stiffened. She turned, her gaze sharp as obsidian. "Heaven?" she murmured. "If Heaven truly governs all, why grant me a son only to take him away?"
Her voice cracked at the end not in anger, but grief so deep it trembled with disbelief.
Outside, a gust of wind slipped through the cracks of the window lattice, stirring the curtains. The candle flames wavered, throwing shadows like spirits dancing along the silk walls. The Empress's tears shimmered in the dim light, but she brushed them away with practiced poise.
It was then the servant beside her an older maid whose loyalty had survived three reigns bowed even lower and spoke in a trembling voice.
"Your Majesty… forgive my boldness. But the stars have whispered of a child unlike any other a blossom born beneath hidden light. She will carry the mark of the lotus, blue as the evening sky and gold as the rising sun. Her arrival shall come when the tide of fate sways the Crown Prince's breath. Few shall know of her coming, yet only she will weave together the threads of life and shadow, as Heaven has decreed."
The Empress's hand froze midair. Candlelight caught the golden thread of her robe, making her seem like a goddess of both wrath and despair.
"Speak clearly," she demanded, voice low and controlled, though each word trembled with restrained emotion. "Are these mere whispers, or Heaven's will?"
The servant trembled, bowing until her forehead touched the floor. "Your Majesty, I dare not claim more than what was written in the stars. Yet it is said that this child will not only save the Prince but also carry the weight of the empire itself."
For a long moment, the chamber was still save for the weak coughs of the Crown Prince. The Empress's fingers clenched upon the bedframe, nails biting into the lacquered wood. Shadows danced across the silk walls as though unseen spirits circled, listening. The scent of incense thickened sandalwood, sharp and solemn, like the breath of prayer itself.
Finally, she whispered, her voice breaking like a vow torn from the soul:
"Then she must come. I will not let him fade before her light reaches him."
Her words hung in the air, fragile yet unyielding. Maid Ming dared not raise her head, but her eyes glistened with tears in her mind she felt so pity for the young crown prince
The Empress looked down at her son again his eyelashes trembling faintly, his hand limp within her own. She leaned closer, her lips brushing his damp forehead as she whispered, "Hold on, my child. Somewhere out there, Heaven is weaving our salvation. You must endure until she comes."
Beyond the chamber walls, the night deepened. The lanterns flickered as the breeze stirred, and the lotus ponds in the distance shimmered faintly, as though stirred by an unseen hand. From the watchtowers came the distant call of a guard's bell hollow, echoing, endless.
Somewhere in that vast darkness, destiny turned quietly upon its hinge.
⚡ Yet fate is cruel. The child of prophecy would not appear soon, nor would her path be clear. Years of shadow, betrayal, and blood would fall upon the empire before her first cry was heard. She was not born only to save the Prince she was destined to bear the burden of the throne itself.
A girl marked by the lotus.
A child of hidden light.
She would bring sovereignty, hope, and a storm that could either save… or shatter them all.